Lullaby
by MisterJB
Summary: In which Morrigan and her Warden sneak into the woods to perform acts of vile magic.


The light that shines through the tick canopy is far too small for the intricate symbols she attempts to paint in mobile flesh and muscles. But Morrigan knows every detail of both the runes and Aedan's body intimately. She makes no mistakes.

"Are you nearly finished, Morrigan? I am freezing here." complains the Cousland who finds himself forced to stand perfectly immobile, bereft of his shirt, well past the hour of the wolf, while his beloved, wrapped in a (warm)coat made of fur, carefully draws, with (cold) paint, runes commonly used by Avvar augurs in every inch of his exposed skin.

"You were the one who insisted I build a triply reinforced diagram of protection beforehand, my love. I warned it would lead to us staying here for hours more."

It's true. The people of the village where they stay for the moment are innocent and do not deserve to have their lives threatened by what they must do.

Not that he expects it will be difficult but Aedan does not take chances in anything he does. It was how he dethroned a national hero, it's how he will do this.

"The necessity of the diagram does not implicate a need for these runes…"

"Given that they will serve to call the demon's attention to you from the Fade, I daresay they are far more vital than this extra layer of protection."

"Residual magic, such as left behind by a small Hexe should be more than sufficient. Magister Arenius theorizes in his writings that…"

"I'm sorry, who here has magic again?"

For a moment he is silent. Anyone else would assume the argument won but Morrigan sees him play with the ring she gave him in another life and four years ago and knows he is simply searching for his next argument.

"Wynne always said we all had our own forms of magic."

Or some witticism, whatever.

"I always said she was a senile old bag. Regardless, I am done."

Aedan stands up and Morrigan and Morrigan takes in her work. It's perfect, like always. So, she gives him a nod and, as he unsheathes his sword, retreats behind the magical barrier. The hardest part is yet to come.

"Tis cold in this field, all alone."

Against her better judgement, Morrigan rewards him with a laugh, encouraging further efforts from him in the future.

"Well, you won't be alone for long. I'm beginning the ritual."

Aedan will always be impressed by how Morrigan can make magic look as natural and subtle as breathing. Over the years, he has seen and fought many mages. Most are simpletons (here's a fireball holy shit he's still coming, better throw a bigger one) but not Morrigan.

At first, she whispers something unintelligible to him and move her hands in complicated patterns, leaving ripples through the air as if she is moving through water. And she is, of course, waters of the Fade.

Eventually, her voice becomes forceful as when one coaches a particularly stubborn individual, the light around her hands becoming lightening that strikes the air as if hooks through invisible flesh.

By the end of it, her whole being shines and Aedan thinks there is no one more beautiful.

So distracted is he that he nearly fails to notice the demon materializing not five steps from him. At first it's nothing but a shapeless feel of malevolence and fury. But then, Aedan feels the heat of the fire and sees brimstone and knows that the Maker has a sense of humour.

The Rage Demon wastes no time in sending a jet of flame his way which Aedan effortlessly dodges. Morrigan's protections prove true and prevent the fire from leaving the confines of the diagram.

Too stupid to understand itself trapped, the demon sees only a useless, non-magical mortal, fit only to be swathed aside and it tries to do just that.

In one second, Aedan crosses the distance between them. In two seconds, he swings his sword horizontally and neatly bisects the creature in two. In three seconds, he turns to Morrigan and flashes one of the smiles he probably thinks of as charming (or perhaps it is her who is thinking it is charming?)

"Well, that was easy."

When they reach the humble home they have been staying in for the past half year (stacked squarely in the middle of the village because the newly arrived family moving to that isolated cottage that is said to be haunted by its last owner would be tantamount to calling the Templars), the most important thing in all the worlds is sitting on the doorways, watched over protectively by a wardog that makes the little boy look even smaller. 

"Hey pup, what are you doing awake?"

The boy looks up at his father with adoring, if sleepy, eyes that, at the moment, betray none of the ages hiding within.

"…was alone."

Morrigan picks him up with all the tenderness only a mother can possess.

"I know, Kieran, I know. Mom and dad just went to make sure you could get a good night's sleep."


End file.
